Losing Small or Winning Big
by AdmiringThatSpecterSmile
Summary: Mike Ross has never made the right decisions. But, then, something changed and he accidentally found himself in front of a sarcastic lawyer. Thrown into a world of chaos, cases and Harvey Specter's sharp wit, Mike can't help but wonder if he's finally made the right decision. Will he lose small... or win big? Massive Marvey theme. Intended to be rated M.
1. Chapter 1

Mike Ross stared into the mirror, just watching as his own reflection lazily blinked back at him. He took in his appearance; from the messy disarray of his brown hair, to the newly polished black shoes which he had on his feet. Taking a steadying breath, he chanted his usual morning mantra in the silence of his own head:

_Its fine. You're fine. Everything will be fine._

__It continued like that for the next few minutes, his brilliant mind working furiously to calm him down before his day began at Pearson Hardman. It wasn't like this was new to him. Sure, he was still the rookie associate… but he had been working there for over two months now. Two months at the law firm and the only people who knew of his secret were himself, Donna and Harvey. Everything was fine. He had a diploma on hand to show anyone who would question it, not that they would, and a computer genius client he had helped out a few weeks back at helpfully put a layer of protection up for him on the Harvard website. No one was going to be uncovering that he was a fraud anytime soon.

Still, Mike couldn't help but reach up and loosen his thin black tie just a tiny but, such a small fraction that Harvey wouldn't even notice it. He'd stopped commenting on the ties. Mike decided that he had realised that it was just a plot. For some reason, he enjoyed annoying the living daylights out of his boss. Mike wasn't aware he was smiling until he once again caught his reflection in the mirror he was standing in front of. Shaking his head free of those strange ones, the ones that crept up on him at the most inopportune of times, he grabbed his satchel, threw it over his shoulder and headed out of his small apartment. Most would think that working at one of the greatest law firms in New York City would have him rolling in cash… but not the lowly associates.

While he, himself, scraped by, he had the pleasure of watching Harvey saunter into work with the _Rolex _strapped to his wrist and the two thousand dollar suits on his back.

Mike unlocked his bike, seating himself on the saddle and adjusting his bag to give him adequate comfort while cycling to his new place of employment. Effortlessly, he weaved in and out of the New York traffic. He would get to work on time today, he was determined. Not only would it give him more time to sneak glances at Rachel, but it would also prevent Louis from jumping down his throat like he had last week. He arrived in front of the building with three minutes to spare.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Mike locked his bike and headed into the building of Pearson Hardman. As always, it was overwhelmed with people. No matter how late Mike stayed, it seemed like this law firm just never slowed down. Everyone was working, constantly, consistently, without ever seeming to tire. It was something which Mike had seen first-hand, as Harvey's assistant – Donna – was one of those people who never seemed to stop. And, yet, she still managed to know _everything_. Still, Mike liked Donna… and he was fairly certain that the feeling was mutual, although the assistant would never dare say such a thing to his face. Kind of like Harvey, he supposed.

"You're late." A familiar voice sounded from behind him.

Mike turned, to find the man himself leaning against one of the assistant's desks. For a brief moment, Mike's stomach clenched with nerves. Standing in front of him, an inch taller at six foot was the city's best closer – Harvey Specter. His face was set into his usual impassive mask; the brown eyes which stared at Mike showed nothing. Harvey Specter didn't do emotions. As always, Harvey looked impeccable. With his brown hair, always perfectly styled, his brown hair and shaped jaw; it was difficult to deny that he was handsome. His suit was fitted, indicating towards a lithe, perhaps even lean, body shape.  
Mike watched as Harvey's eyes glanced down, taking in his own appearance, his lips forever shut over the skinny tie which he always wore. Then, he arched an eyebrow.

"Nice man bag." He stated,

Mike resisted the urge to roll his eyes, "It's a satchel…its hip."  
"Never breathe that word in this office again."

"What word? Hip? Does it annoy you? Hip? What's wrong with hip? It's a perfectly valid adjective, hip. You don't think so?"

Harvey did nothing but stare at Mike with those brown eyes, before pushing himself off of the desk and heading towards his office. As he knew he was expected to do, Mike trailed behind him, smiling at the tiniest victory which he had gained in irritating his boss. Harvey Specter was a man who always had the last word – it was something that was just completely engrained in him.

He watched his boss's retreating back, idly wondering if Harvey had been to the gym lately. For some reason, his lean body seemed to have gained more muscle to it, barely detectable under those Tom Ford suits which he wore to work. Mike followed him to his office, hardly getting enough of a chance to glance into Rachel's office on the way by. His stomach twisted in disappointment, when he realised that the paralegal wasn't currently at her desk.

Shaking that thought from his head, telling himself that he would see her during the course of the day, Mike set his dazzling mind on following his boss to his own office, where the fact that Harvey had gained Senior Partner status was clearly marked on the door.

Thinking back to his first day, Mike remembered the janitor, called on duty to scratch those fancy words off the door – Jessica Pearson, managing partner of the firm, had warned Harvey that if he stepped out of line then it wouldn't just be those words that were being erased. Harvey had promptly fired Mike, only for him to be rehired when he threatened to tell the secret they had been keeping anyway. Taking inspiration, Harvey had blackmailed Jessica into giving him back his title. No one ever took away something which Harvey Specter wanted.

Donna, the red-haired assistant, was seated at her desk outside Harvey's office as always. She didn't even glance up as she held out a paper cup, filled with steaming coffee, as Harvey sauntered by. He removed it from her grip without a word.

The office of Harvey Specter was dazzling. Like all offices, it had a panel of glass as the doors, allowing passer-by's to look into the office and appreciate its greatness. Walls were covered in countless numbers of records, with a couch and some chairs seated in front of it – all black leather. The windows at the opposite end of the room looked out onto the city, with Harvey's desk placed right in front of it. It was that desk was where he sat now; reclining backwards as he absently leafed through some case folders. Mike didn't bother to sit down, not when he would be called back to his feet in a matter of seconds anyway. Harvey toyed with the folder in his hand and Mike could tell that, although his eyes were focused on the information in his hands, he wasn't really seeing it. He was somewhere else, somewhere beyond the office, somewhere beyond the city, perhaps even somewhere beyond the country. For the briefest second, Mike found himself wondering where Harvey vanished in those moods and, for a second more brief than that, he found himself wishing that he could join him.

Then, his boss cleared his throat and he shook those confusing thoughts from his head. Of course, they didn't disappear entirely. Mike found that they were always there. Always present. Just waiting for the right moment to sneak up and grab him, always causing confusion to haze the world around him. In those two months, since his first meeting with his boss to now, Mike had written it up to admiration. During his induction, Rachel herself had implicitly told him that Harvey Specter was someone to be admired. And it was definitely something that was all too natural for him. Harvey had given him a job, a reason for re-evaluating life again, a reason for ditching the drugs and becoming someone new. Hell, he had even succeeded in getting Mike to ditch his best friend.

The tall, brown-haired, brown-eyed man in front of him had given Mike the job which he had always wanted, even though a time may arrive when it could fall to pieces around them both. Harvey would lose his job that much was for sure. He felt that it was only natural to admire someone who was risking so much just by allowing him to have the job which he had always dreamed off, the job he had lost the chance at getting the minute he sold those test results to the dean's daughter.

Glancing up, Mike once again found himself being drawn into the steady stare of those brown eyes. Although not many people would chalk Harvey up as being capable of emotion, Mike found it all too easy to become lost in those eyes. Yes, emotion was hidden at every turn, but even Harvey Specter himself couldn't hide the sparkle behind the dark colour. His boss's eyes were just otherworldly – not even to par with Rachel's, a pair of eyes that Mike had trouble looking away from every time she stood in front of him.

Once he was able to tear his eyes away from Harvey's unfaltering gaze, he realised that a long-fingered hand was holding one of the many stacked folders out to them. Clearing his throat, Mike reached out and took what was being offered to him. He opened it immediately, flicking through the few pages of information and notes.

"The client's name is Rebecca Thornton, aged thirty-eight, two children, currently married but-"

"Filing for a divorce." Mike filled in, already reading that sentence in the folder.

Not only that but it was difficult for anyone in New York City to be unaware of who Rebecca Thornton was or, more specifically, her husband – Jonathan Thornton. Jonathan was CEO of a large advertising company – Thornton Industries – and he had attended several of events which Pearson Hardman turned up at, to interest new clients. Although Mike had never met him, he had seen his picture plastered everywhere. According to anyone he had ever spoken to, Jonathan Thornton was someone to be admired.

Rebecca Thornton was the perfect description of a trophy wife. With the stylishly straight platinum-blonde hair, icy blue eyes and perfectly made-up face, she was an icon to women everywhere. People respected her, for juggling her CEO husband's long work hours with taking her son to football practice and her daughter to ballet, with making dinner and having family time. Many believed that Rebecca Thornton was not a force to be messed with. Only, now, with her case file in hand… it seemed like someone had thought to reckon with her. Or some blatant idiot had thought to reckon with her husband and what her husband perceived as his.

"Rebecca's husband discovered that she had had an affair. He's the one filing for the divorce. However, he's trying to cut Rebecca from all of his assets completely and, understandably; Rebecca wants at least some of her husband's tremendous wealth." Harvey informed me, without glancing up.

"Didn't they sign any pre-nuptials?" Mike questioned, eyes skimming over the beautiful blonde smiling back at him in the small picture attached to the file. It could be taken as a surprise that Rebecca was unfaithful to her husband, but it really came as no surprise that her lover didn't particularly care about being the bit on the side.  
"Rebecca says yes. Thornton says no. Either way, the pre-nup has appeared to have mysteriously disappeared."

Mike glanced up, taking in Harvey's appearance, "You think the husband's hiding it."

His boss looked up from his desk, staring at Mike for so long that he began to fidget under his gaze. When his eyes finally danced away, Mike breathed a sigh of relief.

"I want you to go talk to the wife," Harvey ordered, completely skipping over the question, "Find out everything. Don't let her evade any questions. Any information could be crucial in this case – Jonathan is not a patient or a forthcoming man."

"He's the CEO of several large advertising companies; he wasn't designed to be patient or forthcoming." Mike replied,

Harvey didn't bother to glance up at him as he confidently stated his departing words, "Just do it."

And Mike, as the associate, had no choice but to follow his boss's orders.


	2. Chapter 2

_Sorry for the long wait. There's just been so much going on. School, studying, etc.  
So, I'm sorry if this chapter seems rushed. I wanted to get something up for those who've been waiting. It hasn't been proof-read either so there's bound to be mistakes.  
Also, thanks to anyone who's given a review. They're very helpful.  
Again, sorry for the wait. Hope you enjoy!_

The Thornton household was precisely that. A household… designed to house about thirty billion different people, if the sheer size of it was anything to go by. Mike couldn't help but feel intimidated, as he stood there in a suit which everyone always mocked, coming from the simple background which he had. He was about to go in and interview one of the most influential women in the world, while he stood there as nothing better than a fraud. Mike cleared his throat nervously, fixing his tie before he took a large gulp of air before walking up to the door of Thornton Manor. Magically, the large wooden door swung open before he had even raised his hand to knock. He took that as a good thing – it meant that no one would notice how badly his hand was shaking.

Those tremors in his head never ceased, especially not when he caught sight of the butler in front of him - a _goddamn _butler. His apartment only had three rooms – a tiny bedroom that he could barely fit in, a living room/kitchen and a bathroom. When he had lived there with Trevor, he had needed to sleep on a mattress – on the floor – in said living room.

"Michael Ross. Mrs Thornton has been expecting you." The butler stated, with the stereotypical British accent.

In fact, Mike thought as he finally shoved his nerves down enough to look at the man, everything about him was the stereotypical butler. From the brushed-back white hair on his head, to the wrinkles that lined his aging face, to the black suit and white shirt… it went so far that the man had a white towel draped over his arm.

Mike shook his head. Some people certainly knew how to live the high life.  
He cleared his throat, "It's Mike."

The butler paid him no attention. The only reply he got was the older man retreated back into the house, leaving the door wide open in a way that was obviously meant to suggest that he better hurry up and get inside. Mike did so slowly, his eyes taking in the richness of the interior. It was furnished in a way that could really only be described as _ghastly_. Everything was obviously antique – probably handed down from generation to generation. He supposed that, with a certain frame of mind, one might find the Thornton house beautiful. Yet, he could practically hear Harvey Specter's mocking voice in the back of his head. He could see those brown eyes silently judging everything that the butler led them past, as they walked through the maze of hallways that created the house. The butler – whose name hadn't come up in conversation – didn't stop walking until they entered, what Mike assumed to be, the dining room. It was a low-ceilinged room, the walls painted a dark red with the only light coming from the candles that were plastered everywhere. The room was dominated by the long table in the centre, probably made of some fancy wood that Mike would never even be able to dream of pronouncing. Sitting at the end of the frightfully long table, was a flawlessly gorgeous blonde.

He felt his stomach clench in nervousness as Rebecca Thornton pushed back from the table and made her way over to him, surprisingly graceful on the killer heels that she had decided to wear that day. Although Rebecca Thornton wasn't getting any younger, she was still undoubtedly beautiful with her wavy silvery-blonde locks, intelligent icy-blue eyes and laughter lines on her face. She was dressed in one of those skirt and blazer ensembles that Mike had seen Rachel wear plenty of times before, but had never thought to learn the name of.

"Hello. My name is Rebecca Thornton. You must be Michael Ross." The intimidating women held out her hand.

Mike gripped it, startled to realise that the women had a strong handshake, "Just Mike."

Unlike ignoring the correction – which the butler had done – Rebecca smiled. And it set off a chain reaction. Her icy eyes lit up, going from ice to electricity in the space of a few mere seconds, while her entire posture relaxed and she immediately looked ten years younger. Mike could only hazard a guess at how stressful a divorce could be.

What shocked him most, though, was when Rebecca let out a sigh of relief.

"I have to apologise. Conversing with lawyers is not really my most favourite pastime." She explained,

"Talking to intimidating public figures isn't mine." Mike replied, before his brain could process the words.

When it finally did, his eyes went wide and his mouth dropped open in a hurried attempt to apologise, before mentally berating himself at being so rude to someone who was so well-liked throughout the country.

But Rebecca Thornton merely laughed, cutting his apology short.

"I think I'll like you, Mike Ross." She stated, before turning away, "Please… have a seat."

Mike turned to the table, warily eyeing up all the chairs that were positioned around it. Wordlessly, he watched as Rebecca opted to take the seat at the head of the table – one which must have usually been claimed by her husband. Although Mike still had limited knowledge when it came to the rich and "fabulous", he knew enough about them to know that the men could inherit a gene that left them controlling and dominant. It would come as no surprise to him if he was to find out that Jonathan Thornton usually occupied the seat that his wife was seated in now. Mike decided to play safe, selecting a seat at the middle of the table but still being brave enough to angle it slightly, so that he was facing in the beautiful blonde's general direction.

"Jessica failed to mention that they've started hiring so young." Rebecca murmured, chin on her hand as she looked at Mike thoughtfully.

No matter how desperately he tried, Mike couldn't resist squirming uncomfortably. Being fixed with Rebecca's gaze gave him precisely the same feeling as being fixed with Harvey's. It left his heart pounding.

Mike cleared his throat, "I, uh, look young for my age."

The blonde nodded and, thankfully, looked down.

"Mr Ross…"

"Mike." He corrected again.

"Mike," She smiled, before it faded, "I understand that I am not in the strongest position here. I did commit an immoral act, that much I'm aware of-"

Mike couldn't help but interrupt her, "It's not like I'm here to judge, ma'am."

"I just wanted you to know that, although I have no excuse for what I did, I stand by that decision. Jonathan… he's… well… he's _Jonathan_. He's the CEO of a large company. He works and works and works some more. He goes on business trips, he goes to business dinners, he's always in a conference whenever I call and… and… I got exhausted. I got tired of having a one way marriage, where the only people to ever talk to me where the people on TV and the cat when I was going insane. I got tired of the lonely life."

He wasn't entirely sure why she was telling him all this. Mike had been under the impression that he would have had to do a little more digging, a little more subtle pushing, a little more channelling Harvey Specter to get the results that he really wanted from her. This had almost been too easy.

"I never wanted the press to find out, I'm sure you can understand that. I was going to tell Jonathan eventually. I was going to wait for the right moment to tell him that I couldn't keep going through the motions – smile in front of the cameras, don't let them know how much you're hurting inside, the whole nine yards, you know? But some journalist got in there before I could, planted that seed of doubt in Jonathan's mind and, well, the man isn't really the poster boy for rational thinking. He hired a private investigator, had me followed and, from the money that he was being paid, the man squealed. Jonathan came home in a fury. Not that that's something which is particularly knew but he…confronted me. Right here, in this house, _in front of the kids_! And… I snapped. I couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't take his controlling nature or the way he treated me like I was nothing better than a dog, or a Christmas present that he never much cared for. I'm not proud of the things that I did or the things that I said… but I don't, for one minute, regret them."

Mike stayed silent, almost certain that there was more.

Rebecca took a deep breath, drawing herself up, "If we're going to work well together, you need to understand that."

He nodded, "I do."

"Good."

"So, um, do you want to tell me anything else about your marriage?"

"Marriage?" Rebecca asked incredulously, before snorting in a way that was _not _ladylike at all, "Mike, what Jonathan and I had stopped being a marriage fifteen years ago. In that time, it was nothing more than a business arrangement."

And that, Mike thought, just had to be one of the saddest things that he'd ever heard.


End file.
